What I Will And Won't Do On Cinco De Mayo

I have it on good authority (i.e., some Mexicans of my acquaintance) that one sure-fire way to give yourself away as a gringo is to eat Tex-Mex or Cal-Mex or Nuyo-Mex food and drink Corona beer on this day, Cinco de Mayo.

From what they tell me, outside of Puebla, the holiday is not widely celebrated in Mexico.  It's not seen as "Mexican Independence Day" any more than 24 December, the day the War of 1812 ended, is seen as American Independence Day.

From Pinterest

In fact, according to my authorities/acquaintances, Mexicans have actually taken to calling this day "Drinko de Mayo" and "Gringo de Mayo".  Somehow I'm not surprised:  The vast majority of folks who get drunk on St. Patrick's Day aren't Irish, or even partly of Celtic heritage of any sort.

And, in another parallel to Cinco de Mayo, St. Patrick's Day is celebrated more robustly in the US, Canada and Australia than it is in Ireland itself.  The day celebrating an Anglo-Roman who converted Ireland to Christianity has become, more than anything, an ostensible celebration of Irish heritage, just as Cinco has become a celebration of Mexican pride.

(Likewise, Italian-Americans see Columbus Day as an occasion to celebrate their roots and culture.  But why, of all people, do we choose someone who got lost?)

Photo by Can Turkyilmaz, from Oak Cliff Advocate

Anyway...I promise I won't wear a sombrero or fake moustache.  (Having had a real moustache--and beard--for long periods of my previous life, I get no thrill out of sporting facsimiles.)  I won't even wear a sarape or any of those brightly-colored dresses or shoes.   I might eat something Mexican because, well, I like Mexican food, even in all of its bastardizations.

"Working Relationship"  by Nick Mc Coy, from the Oak Cliff Advocate

But I'll probably go for a ride after work.  That's one thing that translates into almost any culture, and therefore isn't culturally insensitive!

From the Downtown Mobile Alliance

(That bike shop certainly looks OK to me!)

 

Happy 100th Birthday, Jane Jacobs!

In general, what is good for pedestrians is good for cyclists--in urban areas, anyway.

Or, to put it another way, cities that are good for cycling are also usually good for walking.  Such cities usually have stores, services and other amenities that most people can reach without having to drive:  food stores, theatres, doctors' offices, floral shops, schools and book stores are accessible by bike, foot or mass transportation. 

While said retail establishments might include large supermarkets or department stores, they aren't the only options.  Stores in the kind of neighborhood I have just described often specialize in some thing or another, whether it's fruits and vegetables (possibly organic), hardware or housewares, biographies or practical bicycles:  the sorts of things that still often aren't available from big-box stores or online retailers.

Such communities also foster diversity, whether in gender identity and expression, race, ethnicity, income levels, cultural practices or education--in theory, anyway.


By "in theory", I mean in the world Jane Jacobs described in The Death and Life of Great American Cities.  When it was published in 1961, New York's Penn Station was about to fall to the wrecking ball, only to be replaced with a grim, cramped public space that shares only the name and ostensible function of its predecessor.  And, at that time, American metropolises, as well as some cities in other parts of the world, were doing everything they could to follow the vision of planner Robert Moses-- who envisioned cities that were vehicles, if you will, for the automobile (If he'd had his way, downtown neighborhoods like Greenwich Village, Soho and Little Italy would have been bulldozed for an expressway that would have torn through lower Manhattan from the Brooklyn and Williamsburg Bridges in the east to the Holland Tunnel in the west)--and of Le Corbusier, the Swiss-French architect who called for bulldozing downtowns to build skyscrapers interspersed with parks.




Both Moses and Le Corbusier saw traditional neighborhoods as vestiges of the past that impeded progress.  A street, in the words of Corbusier, was  a "relic of the centuries, a dislocated organ that can no longer function".  While people-watching could be fun, it could not compare, he said, with "the joy that architecture provokes".

Now, I like architecture as much as anybody does, if I say so myself.  But a necropolis of towers directs the eye away from the street, and a monochromatic cityscape can only deaden the senses.  I can't help but to think that adding more drivers to such a scenario wouldn't make a city safer, let alone more pleasant, for pedestrians--or cyclists.

While Ms. Jacobs' work has had unintended consequences--She saved the Village and Soho, but who can afford to live in them anymore?--there is little doubt that she has made life better for those of us who ride in large cities.  For that, we owe her a debt of gratitude.

She, who would have been 100 years old today, died in 2006.  Needless to say, her legacy lives.

I should mention that she was a cyclist:  She was often seen pedaling the streets of the Village and, later, Toronto.  Are you surprised?

 

The Sad Saga Of Vladimir Gusev

Perhaps you have heard of Vladimir Gusev, the Russian cyclist who twice won his country's time trial championships. In July of 2008, the Astana team fired him for "abnormal values".  (It sounds like an accusation Ted Cruz would throw at Donald Trump, gay people or just about anyone else, doesn't it?)  On the surface, it sounds like just another doping case, wouldn't you say?

However, the story is more complicated than I've so far described.  You see, the Astana team--founded in Kazakhstan two years earlier--was kicked out of the Tour de France in 2007 after its star rider, Alexander Vinokourov, tested positive.  Needless to say, the team was in a crisis--one that could have threatened its very existence.

Vladimir Gusev:  Victim of the UCI and Johan Bruyneel

To show that Astana was taking a stance against doping (I see the eyeballs rolling!), it recruited who was undoubtedly the best man for the job:  Johan Bruyneel. If his name doesn't sound familiar, I'll tell you a little about him:  From 1999 until 2007 (Do those years ring a bell?), he was the directeur sportif  of--are you ready?--the US Postal Service Team.  Yes, the team that employed one Lance Armstrong.  And a fellow named Alberto Contador:  more about him later.

To show that he was really, really serious about running a clean team, he brought in the Grand Inquisitor of the anti-doping movement:  the Danish doctor Rasmus Damsgaard (Don't you just love that name?), who successfully established anti-doping protocols with Bjarne Riis' old crew, Team CSC.

OK, so maybe Bruyneel was ready to set his riders on the straight and narrow after all.  But soon after bringing Dr. Damsgaard aboard, which cyclist does he hire?  Why, none other than Contador, who'd just won the Tour de France under Bruyneel's tutelage with the Discovery team. 

Well, not long after, the Union Cycliste Internationale (UCI), the sport's governing body, declared that it wouldn't allow the Astana team to participate in the Tour de France.  That meant, of course, that Contador would not be able to defend his yellow jersey.  But, even worse, from Astana's point of view, was that the ban would, in essence, destroy the team.

Bruyneel realized he had to show the UCI that Astana could take care of its own doping problems. So--quelle coincidence!--Damsgaard just happened to find "abnormal values" in Gusev's blood.  The good doctor informed the kindly directeur sportif--who, putting the good of the team and the sport above all else, fired Gusev.

He made the announcement in the middle of a broadcast on Belgian TV, where he was a commentator for its Tour de France coverage.

That went down nearly five years before Lance Armstrong made his confession.  During those years--and before, when Lance was winning seven consecutive Tours--accusations of doping swirled around him.  Now, I am not going to take a stand on Lance.  However, I do believe that it was hypocritical, to say the least, for the UCI to look the other way while Lance was winning the Tour but to, essentially, get Gusev to drop his suit against them so that he could continue his cycling career.

Then again, as loath as I am to defend the UCI, the organization looks pristine compared to Bruyneel, who--from all of the testimony we've heard so far--enabled Armstrong, Contador and other riders' doping but hung Gusev out to dry.

Today, Gusev is riding for the Skydive Dubai Cycling Team.  It's good to see that he's still "in the game" but, at age 33, his best years are probably behind him.  It's enough to make one wonder what sort of rider he might have become had he not gone two years (2008-2010) without racing, just when his star should have been ascending.  Perhaps we'd be hearing more about him than about a couple of other riders Bruyneel managed.

(In the near future, I will write about another Gusev who also has a connection with cycling, or at least with bicycles.)